A Reason to Stay (28 page)

Faith grabbed her phone. She pounded out a text with her thumbs, willing her brain to send the proper signals to her left hand.

Congratulations! Looks like you've found someone
to celebrate with.

She moved to press send—and stopped.

Almost immediately she regretted what she'd about done. Her hand went to her head all stubbled with hair trying to regrow. She fingered the divots in her skull, the marks where the thick metal staples had been.

Dozens of times in the last days, she'd stared at her image in the mirror and wondered who was looking back at her. She remembered Geary telling her she was beautiful.

Perhaps so—but she certainly didn't look like Stacy Brien.

Hot tears ran down her cheeks as she looked back at the television monitor. Geary was holding his championship trophy above his head now. He was beaming.

This was where she had a choice to make—believe the lie she wasn't worth loving, or believe her husband, that he loved her completely and without reservation.

True, she couldn't compete with Stacy in the looks department. Not anymore. No matter what pep talk came out of her husband's mouth, Faith needed to come to terms with that.

She had no choice but to recalibrate the way she thought about her worth.

Conner Anderson needed a mother. An emotionally healthy woman who did not falter at every opposition was essential to his well-being.

She'd be there for him. And she wouldn't do it alone. Geary would be by her side.

T
he therapist placed two tennis balls on the table. “Okay, Faith. I need you to pick one up with your right hand and the other with your left.”

Faith firmly grasped the ball in her right hand. Her grip on the ball in her left hand was weak, but she was able to wrap her fingers around it.

“Okay,” her therapist said. “As you slowly lift your right hand, I want you to try to make the exact same movements with your left hand.” Faith's brain was able to give clear signals to her right hand. The hope was that if she could move both hands simultaneously, the right guiding the left, the movement might further retrain her brain.

Faith concentrated, lifting her right and left hands in tandem. She actually willed her left hand to lift that tennis ball. One inch. Two inches. Three inches. She lifted the ball four inches into the air. It was a triumph.

“Good. Excellent!” The therapist beamed. “Okay, that's enough for today.”

Faith thanked her. She concentrated and moved herself slowly along the table and toward her wheelchair. In just the last week, she'd made remarkable progress. She had nearly her entire arm
movement back, and exercises like those today were quickly restoring her dexterity. While still somewhat clumsy, she was walking on her own.

The team warned she might never return to exactly the same physical abilities she had prior to the shooting, but in six months or so, few looking at her would notice.

Back in her room, she pulled her phone from the pocket of her yoga pants. As she went to place it on her bedside table, it rang, giving her a start. She glanced at the face, which read
Unidentified Caller
.

“Hello?” she answered. She fingered the soft petals of a tulip in another bouquet that had been sent over by the station with a card that read,
Hearing you might be going home soon. You'll always
have a place back at the station.
The card had been signed by Clark and all the others. She smiled at the heartwarming gesture.

“Hello?” she repeated when no one responded. Suddenly, her heart pounded. “Teddy, is that you?”

“It's me,” a voice said, a voice that barely sounded like her brother's. “I called to, uh, to tell you I'm sorry.”

“Don't be. I survived. The shooter's bullet didn't take me down completely.”

“No, I know that. I'm . . .” His words slurred terribly.

“Teddy? Teddy, are you all right?” Alarm rose inside her. Clearly, her brother was anything but all right. “Where are you? I mean, I want to see you. Teddy, I need to see you. Please, please tell me where you are.”

“Please don't hate me. I—I needed the money,” Teddy nearly whimpered. “I'm sorry.”

The phone went dead.

Panic rose in Faith's chest. She knew better than to try to call her brother back. The past had taught her he wouldn't answer.

Why had he called? Why now? And why did he keep saying he was sorry?

Unless he was going to . . .

She'd heard that desperation one other time. Her mother.

Could it be possible Teddy Jr. had finally reached the end of his tolerance for life lived at the bottom of the pit? Was he considering taking a similar path?

That possible notion chilled her to the bone. She clasped the phone and did the only thing she knew to do.

She called Geary.

Faith sat on the edge of a straight-backed chair in her room, picking at her pants and willing Geary to return her call. When he hadn't picked up, she'd left a message. Without giving a lot of details, she'd tried to plainly let him know the situation was urgent with these words: “Geary, I need you. Please come.”

She watched the clock on the wall ticking off the minutes—twenty-six, to be exact—since Teddy had called.
Please, Lord, let Geary call back.

As if on cue, the phone trilled. She picked up. “Geary?”

“Faith, I'm on my way. What is it? Are you okay?”

His voice was like cool water dousing the raging worry magnifying in her mind with every second. “I'm fine. But I need you, please hurry.”

Geary arrived in record time, given the distance and five o'clock traffic. As he rushed into her room, she met him standing. He lifted his eyebrows at the sight. “You—you're on your feet. Both of them,” he said, grinning.

She nodded and grasped his wrist. “Sit, I need your help. And we don't have much time.”

Giving her husband the condensed version, she told him about her brother and the call, confiding for the first time the entire story and how bad off her little brother really was—how his addiction had pulled him under, drowning his ability to function properly
and extinguishing any sort of normal sibling relationship between the two of them. “This time it's different. I know his voice. He's in real trouble. I'm scared of what he might be planning to do, and we have to find him.”

Geary nodded. “I'll do whatever I can,” he said, rubbing his chin. “But, babe. We don't even know where he is.”

Someone rapped on her door. “Faith?”

Geary jumped up and swung the door open.

Lawana Maxwell stood there in her white nurse uniform. “Faith, you'd better turn on the television. I'm afraid there's something you'll want to see.”

O
n the television, DeeAnne Roberts, whom Faith had learned was now with another station, sat across from Teddy Jr. “Let me start off by saying how grateful I am that you agreed to this interview.” She was dressed in a fuchsia-pink suit jacket and cream-colored slacks. Gold chains were stacked on her wrists and hung from her neckline.

Teddy noticeably squirmed in his worn jeans and button-down, the sleeves rolled up, exposing sharp bony angles at his wrists. “Yeah, uh—no problem.” His eyes were wide and deep, glossy.

Faith's hand went to her throat. “Oh no! No.” She looked over at Geary, frantic, a dull thud inside her chest. “He's high.”

They both watched in horror when DeeAnne smiled slowly, as if she wanted to take something that wasn't hers and didn't want anyone to notice. “Well, as you know, your sister is a much-loved television personality, someone the entire viewing community admires. When she was gunned down by a shooter at the Johnson Space Center on that fateful day, we all watched in horror.” Her face drew into the appropriate emotion before she continued. “Houstonians have hoped and prayed and cheered her on as we've followed her surprising recovery.”

Photos of Faith on various field reports and then images of the aftermath of the shooting appeared on-screen.

Faith's blood flowed in slow motion, slugging into her heart's ventricles like searing molten lava.

“They've paid him,” she said absently. “They broke the golden rule and paid for this interview. And it's not going to be good.”

Now she understood her brother's cryptic message. So did Geary and he leapt into action.

He pulled his cell phone from his jeans pocket. “I'll handle this.” After a couple of clicks he said under his breath, “Got it.” He dialed and held the phone to his ear, waiting.

On the television, DeeAnne glanced at her notes briefly. “Let's talk about your sister a little, provide our viewers with a little background.”

Teddy's eyes darted between the camera and the anchor. He ran his hand through his sandy-blond hair. “Yeah, what do you want to know?”

“My notes say your sister grew up right here in Houston.”

“Yeah. We lived over in Baytown. She used to walk me to school every morning.” His mouth drew into a slight grin. “Kept the bullies away, know what I mean?”

Faith stared at the image on the screen, both horrified and fascinated. She hadn't seen her little brother in over three years. He looked just as she remembered, except he was much thinner. His hollow cheeks and severe jawline told her eating might not be one of his daily habits. Sadly, he looked shriveled and all used up—like vegetables when they'd been in the crisper far too long.

DeeAnne cocked her head to the right. “Yes, let's talk about your time in Baytown. Your father was”—she checked her notes—“an RV salesman?”

Teddy nodded. The dark circles under his eyes made him appear haunted.

“And he died very early? Is that right?”

Again he nodded.

Geary's voice grew louder from across the room. Faith held up her palm, trying to quiet him so she could listen.

“And your mother.” DeeAnne said this as a statement. Faith chewed on her nail. The woman in the anchor chair was the sort of person who would try to discover as much as she could to use the information to her benefit. Obviously, she believed she'd hit the jackpot. She was after ratings and was a master manipulator who would compliment herself, while disguising the fact she was holding someone else underwater to do it.

Teddy frowned. “I thought you wanted me to talk about Faith.”

DeeAnne leaned back. “Yes, of course. I just think viewers would like to know a little background about your sister.” She gave him a flattering smile. “Let's talk a minute about that day at the Johnson Space Center,” she said, switching gears. “How did you learn of the shooting?”

Teddy rubbed at his eyebrow. “That's when I had a job. I was working laundry over at the Omni—nights. Some dude came in pushing another load of sheets and he was talking about this shooting out at JSC that happened earlier in the day, some senator being dead and all. And then he said my sister's name.” He cleared his throat and straightened in the chair. “I had to check it out so I sweet-talked a maid into letting me into one of the empty rooms, and I turned on the television and all.” He shook his head. “Worst day of my life.”

DeeAnne's eyes narrowed. “Worse than finding your mother dead?”

Faith could see the sweat on Teddy's brow. “I—my sister. I ain't talking about that.”

“How old was your sister when your mother killed herself?”

Teddy turned angry. He stood and yanked the microphone from his chest. “I'm outta here.”

DeeAnne reached for him. “No, wait. I have just a few more—”

“I'm done,” he said and tossed the wire to the floor and walked off the set.

The antics were not that unexpected. DeeAnne took a deep, satisfied breath and smiled at the camera. “I apologize to our viewers. The story here is that the woman who launched her career by saving a young man from throwing himself off the Fred Hartman Bridge, did so while hiding the pain of her own mother's suicide.” DeeAnne lifted her chin slightly. “And now Faith Marin sits in a hospital here in Houston, fighting to learn to walk again after being shot by a madman.”

Faith could barely breathe. “How dare she?” She balled her hands into fists and gritted her teeth in anger.

But she knew the drill. Networks were willing to run even the most egregious nonsense, all for the sake of increasing viewer buzz. Her personal life had been thrown as bait in hopes of luring the watching public from other stations—from her own KIAM-TV.

It was a low move.

One she'd never done, but had come dangerously close to at times.

Geary slammed his phone into his shirt pocket. “I know where your brother is—or at least where he was about an hour ago.”

Faith mustered every neurotransmitter inside her brain, willing each to cooperate. Only faltering slightly, she stood. “Let's go.”

Geary shook his head. “You're not going anywhere. I'll go find your brother.”

Faith grabbed his arm. “Teddy Jr. will never let you approach him. I've got to be there.”

Her husband looked at her as if weighing his options.

She teared up. “Geary, please. I couldn't take it if something happened. Please take me to him.”

He slowly nodded. “Okay, if your medical team agrees it's safe, I'll take you.”

Within the hour, calls had been made and she'd been helped to Geary's pickup. As he lifted her inside, his familiar scent filled her nostrils and made her feel less anxious.

In her mind too much time had passed since her brother's phone call. Clearly he'd felt low and was under the influence—a dangerous combination.

“Please hurry,” she urged Geary, who had called the station while the interview was airing, demanding to speak to their station manager. He learned her brother had walked out of the interview without getting his payment—another dangerous sign.

Luckily, the station folks caught up with him on the sidewalk and offered to pay for a cab. Geary now had the information where Teddy Jr. had been taken and dropped off—Baytown.

She knew there could only be one place he'd go in the town where'd they'd grown up. She gave Geary the address.

On the way there it started to rain, first a steady drumbeat of drops on the windshield, then turning to a torrent that made it difficult to see the road ahead.

Geary's hands gripped the wheel a bit tighter. “Are you okay?” he asked without taking his eyes from the road.

“Yeah. I just never imagined my first trip out of the hospital would be—this.”

“Faith, I don't understand. Why didn't you tell me?”

She watched the wipers doing their best to sweep the glass free of the water that blurred her vision. “Geary, all of my life I've felt broken. I know that's difficult for you to understand coming from your background, with a mother and father who love one another, who are committed to their children, and who love God. You have no idea what it feels like to compare your own situation and wonder what you did to deserve so much less.”

He glanced at her then. “Less?”

“Yes. My career offered a respite, a place where my own accomplishments overshadowed my defective genesis. At KIAM-TV, all
that mattered was how I looked on camera, what story I scooped, the ratings.”

A semitruck passed in the adjacent lane, spraying water and making visibility even more treacherous. Geary leaned forward and concentrated, but she knew he was listening.

“Imagine what it was like to come into a family like the Marins. I should have felt fortunate. Because of God's providence I now had what I had lacked all those years—stable, healthy people who wanted to love on me. Albeit too much sometimes and in ways I was unaccustomed to, but your family and even the church members were nothing but gracious.”

“But it all seemed to just rub you wrong.”

“It did. Your family was simply a reflection of what my own lacked. Think of it, Geary. In every situation the people who were supposed to love me the most simply bailed on me. First, my father. His physical needs and desires took precedence over me and Teddy. My mother, even. She was always eccentric, but his unfaithfulness broke her. She was never the same after he died in that car and she learned he'd had a younger woman with him. That event seemed to just be more than she could wrap her fragile self around.”

“You never told me what happened to her.”

“It was a night in November, much like this one. Despite the storms rolling in off the Gulf, she donned a swimsuit and walked across our backyard with a bottle of vodka in her hands.”

“I'm so sorry,” Geary nearly whispered.

“I came home from a movie to a dark house. I finally found Teddy outside, sitting in the reeds by the edge of the water with Mama draped over his lap. He was soaked to the bone. When I knelt beside him he simply said, ‘Mom went swimming.'”

The exit to Baytown loomed up ahead. Geary turned on his blinker. “But that sounds like an accident. She drank too much and just made a foolish choice.”

She nodded and wiped at her eyes. “We thought so too, until
we found her goodbye note a day later. She even wrote out her own obituary, leaving out all the bad parts and making it sound like we were the Brady Bunch or something.”

Geary reached across the seat and grabbed her hand. “I'm so sorry I expected you to mold into my family without considering there might be reasons why you were pulling away.”

“How could you possibly have figured any of this out? I was far too broken to reveal what was really going on inside of me.”

Minutes later he pulled up in front of the address she'd provided. The house was empty now, boarded up. The sidewalk in front was crumbling and the front lawn nothing but weeds.

She hadn't been back in years.

She hadn't liked living here then, and she hated it now. She only hoped she wasn't too late.

Geary helped her from the truck. He removed his shirt and tried to shelter her from the rain, to no avail.

“Stay here, Geary. This is something I need to do alone.”

“But—”

“Alone,” she repeated, not leaving room for argument.

She could sense his reservation, understood it even, but to his credit Geary stayed back and let her continue, despite her faltering steps.

She willed her legs to carry her.

The bluster nearly drowned out her husband's voice. “Please be careful.”

She rounded the corner of the house, stepping carefully and concentrating on every move—lifting one leg then the other, just as she had while on the balance bar in physical therapy.

Lightning flashed, illuminating the scene before her.

She saw him then, Teddy Jr., huddled by the water's edge.

Her heart flooded with relief. Faith hurried forward as best she could until she was close enough to place her hand on his shoulder. “Teddy?”

He turned, sobbing.

She knelt on the muddy ground and embraced him. “Teddy, I'm so glad I found you.”

He looked at her, misery dimming his eyes. “I thought she loved us.”

“She did, Teddy. She was just broken and didn't know how to show us.”